


Fighting Fire

by TiffanyF



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 08:16:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiffanyF/pseuds/TiffanyF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John loses his temper and blows up at Sherlock. Sherlock goes out into London, loses track of himself and ended up almost deathly sick. An old friend comes to the aid with a little help from Mycroft. Turns out that John doesn't know everything about Sherlock or the Holmes family. Don't own, don't claim, no money made here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The silence in the flat at 221 B Baker Street was crushing. It was also unusual. Normally, Sherlock would have some sort of experiment going, or be talking loudly at the telly, or even shooting at the wall because he was bored. But Sherlock wasn't there, and hadn't been for almost a week. It also wasn't unusual for him to take off for a couple of days when he was working on a case, but there was no case and he really should have been there. John sat in his chair and twisted his phone in his hands. He'd tried sending text messages to find Sherlock and make sure he was okay, but there had been no reply. He was really worried about his flat-mate. With a small sigh, he opened his phone again and sent off another text.

Where are you? - JW

His heart leapt a little when he heard the ring that was so familiar to him. "Sherlock?"

"I am sorry to disappoint you, John, but no."

"Mycroft." John leaned back in his chair. "What are you doing with Sherlock's phone? Where is he?"

The elder Holmes brother sat down in Sherlock's chair and rested his umbrella against his leg. "He is moderately safe for the moment," he said. "Though I do worry what will happen if we cannot get this fever to break."

"Fever? Where is he? Let's go."

"Do sit down, John. I'm afraid that, until I'm certain of how you truly feel towards my brother, I'm not going to allow you near him. Especially given the state he is currently in. A very old and dear family friend is watching over him, and said friend is a paramedic. He'll take good care of Sherlock whilst I'm away." Mycroft pulled out his notebook and flipped it open to a page in the middle. "It really is most inconvenient for me to be away from the office at the moment, given the state of Greece, but in spite of what my brother may believe, family is very important to me. Now, tell me about the row you had with Sherlock Friday last, please?"

"Row?" John asked, trying not to fidget. Mycroft always made him nervous. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"So you didn't accuse him of sleeping with Greg Lestrade?" Mycroft tsked at the look on John's face. "Sherlock has had a few lucid periods, during which he's spoken with Jeff, who has, in turn, talked to me. Shall we start at the beginning? You came home in a temper because of Sarah and some new boyfriend she was showing off around the surgery. Sherlock was in his chair with his phone on the left armrest, staring at nothing. You snapped at him because there was no food in the flat and you didn't think it was fair that you should have to go back out and do the shopping when you'd been at work all day while he had just sat about doing nothing, like he always did. You accused him of using me to pay the bills and stormed back out of the flat."

"Mycroft, Sherlock never does anything between cases," John said. "He's always after me to get him things that are within his reach when he's working. He's lazy. All he wants is a servant around the place. You're telling me that he can't afford the rent here on his own?"

"Sherlock's work is his investigations. He warned you quite clearly before you ever set food in this flat that he had issues. He doesn't welcome people in his space. His finances are his own concern, but I understand that he's supported you through some very trying times; buying the groceries when you didn't have the funds and covering the rent so you could have a place to live whilst you searched for a job." Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock is hard to live with, yes, but it seems to me that you weren't entirely honest with him when you first met."

"What?"

"Your temper, John. You do have to admit that it does get the better of you at times. The best way to handle Sherlock is to ignore the more outragous requests and help him however he needs for the rest of the time."

"He won't leave me alone. He texts me constantly while I'm at work demanding that I meet him for a case. Then, when I get there, sometimes afraid I won't have a job to go back to, he's already solved it and wants to go out to dinner."

"Have you ever considered becoming a partner in his consulting business?"

"What business? He turns down almost every case that comes his way, doesn't get paid for the ones he does take on and just lays around here all day ruining our kitchen things."

Mycroft smiled. "He does get paid for the cases he aids the police in. The government is very generous to him for any aid he can give on any of the cases," he said. "Sherlock has a thriving business. How is it that you haven't noticed? Ah, I know, it's because you have a fixed image of him in your mind and haven't been willing to observe what's around you."

"Not you too. I get enough of that from him."

"Observation is vital to success," Mycroft said. "I would think that holds true in the medical field as well, though I don't assume to know much more than an average man."

"Good of you, considering how much you assume on other fronts," John said.

"Now what on earth could you mean by that?"

"You think you know everything there is to know about living with Sherlock. But you don't. You don't know how demanding he can be at all hours of the day and night. How he plays his violin constantly with no regard for anyone trying to sleep. His constantly leaving human remains in the fridge that I have to share with no warning whatsoever."

"John, do remember to whom you are speaking." Mycroft turned the page in his notebook. "To carry on, as I do want to get back to Sherlock and see how he is doing, when you returned from the shops, you told Sherlock that since you shopped for it, he could put it away and you went to take a shower. When you came back down, the food was where you had left it and he was typing a text message on his phone. You told him to stop, how did he put it? Oh, yes, here it is, 'detailing what sex acts you were planning to use on Lestrade when he was off the clock and get your lazy ass into the kitchen to help out a little.' John, I'm sure that your language was a little more colorful, but Sherlock has never been one for vulgarities. Why ever did you accuse him of sleeping with Lestrade in the first place? Don't you know the man is straight?"

"You could have fooled me with how they interact."

"People say the same about you and Sherlock."

"Yeah, I'm straight."

Mycroft studied him for a moment. "There are days I wonder about that, John. But you know your own mind, I'm sure. Sherlock helped to put the food stuffs away and returned to his chair to send another text. Before he could send it, you grabbed the phone and threw it across the room. When Sherlock asked you what the problem was, you started yelling at him. Did you give him a chance to tell you that he was working a case with Lestrade via text message? It was one of the rare ones that he could solve from here and not have to go to the crime scene," Mycroft said. "He had almost solved the case when you broke his train of thought by ordering him into the kitchen."

"Oh, come on. Sherlock doesn't hear anyone unless he wants to. He's the king of ignoring people."

"You seem to be an exception. I have no clue as to why that should be. You aren't the man I would have chosen for him to have as a flat-mate, but he seems to like you. Sherlock was going to ask Lestrade a question when you grabbed the phone away from him. Because of that move on your part, the case is still unsolved." Mycroft shook his head. "I don't have the time to look into it, and Jeff doesn't know when Sherlock will break out of this fever. Or even if he will. It takes energy and will to help break a fever, John, and I wonder if Sherlock has any left after what happened after you tossed his phone."

"How do you know all of this? There's no way Sherlock gave you this much detail, no matter how lucid he was."

"John, never underestimate myself or my brother." Mycroft studied his notebook. "Yes, here we are. You then started to say that the flat was a mess and Sherlock should have tidied up after himself since he didn't have anything better to do all day than sit in his chair and stare off into space. He broke in to say that he had been working a case all day and you accused him of lying to you. Sherlock then went to retrieve his phone so he could go to his room and attempt to solve the case for Lestrade and you grabbed his arm."

"All right, yes, fine. I was a jerk," John said. "You don't have to rub it in like this, you know."

"But I'm to the best part, John. Don't you want to hear it again? I'm sure that everyone down at the Yard enjoyed hearing you yell it."

"How did everyone at the Yard hear me?"

"When you threw the phone, it dialed Lestrade. So every single one of the man's team heard you call Sherlock a psychotic freak who shouldn't be allowed to run around loose because no one would ever be safe." Mycroft closed his notebook and put it back in his pocket. "It was only by my intervention that the police didn't swarm in here searching for body parts. Lestrade was rather shocked at your tone and language and contacted me admirably quickly and I was able to intervene with the Yard. But in that time, my brother vanished into London."

"He does that."

Mycroft sighed and looked at his umbrella for a moment, twisting it back and forth. "John, I'm sure that there is a deeper, more deadly root to this problem you seem to suddenly be having with my brother, and I believe it all stems from the fact that Sarah dumped you and has moved on. It must be hard to work with a former love interest, but that's no reason to take out your frustrations at a lack of a sex life on my brother."

"Do you know what he does when I'm on dates? He sends me texts and bothers me constantly until the woman I'm out with gets fed up and leaves," John said. "All I want to do is enjoy a nice night out and he goes out of his way to ruin it."

"You can always leave. Why do you stay, if Sherlock is as bad as you're making him out to be."

"I've wondered that a lot lately."

"I know the answer to that. You enjoy it. You like the danger that your association with Sherlock brings you. It gives you a rush to know that one of the smartest men in the world relies on you, asks for your help in his work. Yet you aren't willing to take every part of the package. If you really want danger, John, I could see to it that you get shipped back to the war to work again. Would that be enough danger for you?"

"I'm fine, thanks. I don't know what you're talking about. I don't like the danger. He almost got Sarah and me killed one night because of one of his bloody cases."

"Then we're back to the option of you moving out. Sherlock sees you as a friend, John. One of the first he's made since childhood, and I was happy for him to have a former military man with him. I knew that you would help keep him safe. But I did worry about your temper, how it would lead you to treat my brother." Mycroft sighed. "I don't wonder if time apart isn't what you need. It'll let you calm down and figure out exactly what you want from your association with my brother, and Sherlock can spend time with Jeff."

"Okay, you know what, back up. Who the hell is Jeff anyway? Sherlock's never mentioned him, and I know for a fact that the man doesn't have any friends. He's told me so himself."

Mycroft smiled. "Jeff was raised by our grandfather. He and Sherlock are the same age and have always been close. They really were quite the handful around the cottage growing up."

"Then why haven't I heard about him before? Seems to me he should have been about the place before, if they're really such good friends."

"Jeff's been abroad in an exchange program sponsored by his department and has only been back in country for about three months. I was lucky that he hasn't started back up at work and was willing to help me out when Sherlock was found in such a poor condition." Mycroft took out his watch and looked at it. "I really must be getting back. Do think about what I've said, John, and I'll be in touch in a few days."

John watched the elder Holmes brother until he was out the door and leaned back in his chair with a huff. He honestly didn't recall too much of the fight he'd had with Sherlock the other night, but it sounded like the detective hadn't deleted any of it. It really hadn't been fair to call Sherlock a freak. The man was different and, as annoying as he was, he was consistent. John wanted to apologize to Sherlock, talk about the fight and what had led up to it, but he couldn't as long as Mycroft had him hidden away. It worried John that Sherlock was so sick. He'd never seen Sherlock with as much as a sniffle, to be running such a high fever, he needed to be in the care of a doctor, not some paramedic. All Mycroft was doing was risking his brother's life by not taking him to a hospital. He knew what the other man was doing. Mycroft wanted to be sure that Sherlock was somewhere that John couldn't find him. He'd got that, especially as Mycroft had Sherlock's phone. John didn't know what he could do next. Maybe researching the mysterious Jeff would give him a clue on where to go next. It beat sitting around letting his harsh words from the other night echo in his head. John shook said head and got up to get some tea and his computer.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked around the room, blinking to bring everything into focus. The last thing he remembered clearly was stumbling into one of London's hotels and asking for a room for the night. He wasn't in the hotel, he was sure of that. He sighed. If the wallpaper was any indication, Sherlock was in one of his brother's so-called "safe houses", even if he didn't remember being brought to it.

"Hey, back with us then, are you?" a rough, familiar voice asked. "Let me take your temperature before you start talking to me. We've had a few false alarms, but your eyes look clear."

"Jeff," Sherlock managed before a thermometer was stuck under his tongue.

"You've been pretty sick, Sherlock. Mycroft rang me up and asked me to come take care of you. I'll be honest, I was getting ready to call and take you down to St. Bart's if this fever didn't break by this evening. What did you do to get so sick?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his friend, indicating that he couldn't talk with the stick in his mouth. Jeff laughed. "I've never known that to stop you before. There, let's see now. 37 even. Back to normal," he said. "Or as normal as you've ever been. Now answer the question."

"I used myself too freely and lost track of time," Sherlock croaked. "Is there water?"

"Of course, but don't bend your left arm. I've got two IVs in you and they can't come out until I'm sure you're not going to relapse. Let me move you."

"Where's my phone. I need to text Lestrade," Sherlock said. "I was working a case with him before all of this. What happened? Did he arrest the wife's sister?"

"I don't know, you'll have to ask Mycroft when he comes back 'round," Jeff said. "Here's your water. I don't know that I think much of your flat-mate if he treats you like this."

"John has a temper and no girlfriend," Sherlock said. "The combination can be frightful at times." He sipped his water. "How long have you been home? Why didn't you call me?"

"Hardly any time at all, and I was going to when Mycroft called me." Jeff sat down on the bed and took Sherlock's hand in his own. "I was planning to ask you out to dinner, see if you wanted to pick our relationship back up where we left off. I probably shouldn't even mention it, not with you sick as you've been, but I've missed you, Sherlock. And if Grandpa Will taught me one thing, it's don't hesitate in matters of the heart."

Sherlock laughed. "Grandfather had so many wonderful sayings. I do miss the old man," he said softly. "He was one of the last who could understand me. I know he stepped in several times to stop Father from doing something to me. I wanted to go and live with you out at the cottage, but Mother wouldn't allow it. She said it wasn't proper."

"She was right, Sherlock, but proper rarely stops you."

"Mycroft."

"Welcome back to the world of the healthy, Sherlock. I've been to see John at Baker Street. He's been texting constantly since the row the pair of you had. I wanted to let him know you weren't dead in a gutter somewhere."

"How nice of you. I'm guessing you won't allow me my phone for a day or two. Text Lestrade and tell him to arrest the wife's sister, if he hasn't already," Sherlock said.

"That will make him happy. He also sends his apologies along with a promise to keep his team in line the next time you work with them," Mycroft said.

Sherlock closed his eyes. "They all heard him, didn't they?"

"They did."

"I suppose it can't be any worse than it was before. Thank you for keeping them out of the flat, Mycroft. The remains in the fridge might have over-excited them a bit," Sherlock said. "What else did John say?"

"He wants to see you, a request I refused whilst you are convalescing. He's been thinking about moving out of Baker Street, I don't know if he will or not, but I do believe the two of you need to talk. Once you are recovered. As I told him, some time apart will do you both a world of good. He can think and you can spend time with Jeff."

"He's not going to let this go, Mycroft. I need to talk to him."

"You need to rest and recover." Mycroft checked his pocket watch. "I have a meeting. Jeff, please continue to take care of him. Sherlock, behave."

Jeff sighed. "I wish you wouldn't antagonize him so, Sherlock. He's been here constantly since you got sick. He really does care about you."

"I don't know that I can ever forgive him, Jeff," Sherlock replied. "I know, Grandfather would have me out running laps about the cottage for this, but I think he'd also understand."

"Grandpa Will would probably lock you both in a room until you worked it all out," Jeff smiled. "So, getting back to where we were before Mycroft arrived, would you like to get back together, Sherlock? I've missed you terribly. Or does your flat-mate hold your heart now?"

"John's buried so deeply in the closet that he is never going to step out," Sherlock sighed. "There was some attraction back when we first moved in together, but he's so defensive about how people classify him when he's with me that it killed anything I could have felt for him. Plus, there's always been you. I knew you wouldn't stay in the states forever, no matter how much you enjoyed it in New York."

Jeff refilled Sherlock's glass and sat back down. "That's the last for a spell. I don't want to upset your stomach more than we have to," he said. "You get some sleep and I'll make you up a batch of the firehouse dumplings you like so much."

"How can I refuse?"

"I've never seen anyone bounce back from a fever so fast. Well, not since Grandpa Will. I guess this just proves you're more like him than anyone else."

"That's not a bad thing. Grandfather understood."

"That he did. Sleep, Sherlock. I'm only a shout away."


	3. Chapter 3

John had never really considered Sherlock's family or his past. The man had such an aura about him that, most of the time, it made him seem unique. Like he had just appeared on the planet as an adult with no family at all. Meeting Mycroft really didn't do much to dispel that opinion. John wondered, at times, why Sherlock was so against his elder brother. He had a suspicion that part of it had to do with the fact that Mycroft was, in fact, smarter than Sherlock. That would be something that Sherlock would resent and act out against no matter what else happened. The rest of the family was a mystery, one that John had no clue how to go about solving, so he logged into one of the databases that Sherlock had access to - only because of Lestrade - and started searching for the mysterious Jeff that Mycroft had mentioned.  
Finding him wasn't nearly as hard. The man had been a firefighter for years before training to be a medic, and it was his high scores on exams and his high standard of work that led to him being sent on the exchange with the fire department in the states. John wasn't too sure if he would be able to find anything useful about Jeff's history, but at least he knew that Sherlock was in good hands. Well, good hands that weren't his. He was still worried about the fact that Sherlock hadn't been taken to the hospital when his fever lasted more than a couple of days, but he just had to live with that. It wasn't like he would be able to find his flat-mate until Mycroft wanted him to, or Sherlock came home under his own power.

As he dug through documents, John found that Jeff lost his parents when he was four. Their house had burned down. Young Jeff had been informally adopted by a William Holmes, and, in the fullness of time, the adoption was made official. John had to wonder at that. If William was anything like Sherlock or Mycroft, then it wouldn't have been the sort of home he'd want a child growing up in. It hadn't done Jeff any harm though. He had top marks at school and always showed to be a hard worker, honest and very straight-forward. John wondered how much of that was his natural talents showing through, and how much of it was inspired by contact with the Holmes family. It couldn't have been easy having Mycroft and Sherlock around at any age, but children always seem to be more naturally nasty to each other. He wondered if that had happened. How Sherlock had treated Jeff. Given the man was taking care of Sherlock, maybe they were close. He supposed it was possible that they saw Jeff as another brother and treated him like they would each other.

There weren't many pictures of anyone John recognized, although he was able to find out what Jeff looked like from a newspaper article online. In the black and white newsprint picture, he looked like an ordinary man - dark hair, light eyes - and John found himself wondering what Sherlock saw in the man. He doubted that being raised in the Holmes family meant automatic friendship with the detective. Actually, he had proof of that, given how Sherlock treated his brother. It seemed that Jeff was smart and able, obviously brave, and caring. John groaned and rubbed his face when he realized that he was getting jealous over a man he knew nothing about. But he did have to wonder if Sherlock ever took Jeff on any of his cases.

He shut down the computer and went up to bed. He had to work the next day and needed to be rested. Ever since Sarah found the new boyfriend - a perfectly ordinary bloke who worked in the city and never was around any danger of any sort - John had been picking up more and more of the slack at the clinic. He didn't mind, the money was handy to pay off some debts, but it bothered him. He'd liked Sarah and had thought they had something. But Sherlock had come into the middle of it, and the associated danger proved to be too much for Sarah. John supposed he was lucky he still had a job at the surgery given how their break-up had gone. He climbed into bed and tried to get comfortable. It wasn't easy, and he finally just flopped onto his back and stared up into the darkness. God, he needed a date or something to get rid of some of the tension he could feel coiled around all of his muscles. John couldn't remember the last time he'd had sex with another person. Was it possible it had been before he was wounded and sent home from the war? That didn't seem possible, but was probably right. No wonder he was so tense about everything. And, knowing Sherlock, he probably knew.

Well, if he wasn't going to get any sleep, he might as well think about a few things Mycroft had said to him. Why had he accused Sherlock of sleeping with Lestrade? It really was one of the most absurd things he'd ever heard in his life, and it had come from his own mouth. Sherlock was the one who said he was married to his work. The man was completely asexual. There was no way that he would be sleeping with Lestrade. Hell, there were days that John wondered how Sherlock felt about the detective inspector to begin with. It was hard to tell. Sherlock called everyone stupid, so that wasn't a basis to be going on, but it seemed like he didn't insult Lestrade as much as he insulted others around him. John didn't know what that meant - other than Sherlock probably liked Lestrade on some level - or that Lestrade had something on Sherlock that the detective didn't want made public knowledge. John had really just wanted to lash out and have a fight with his flat-mate and had gone for something that would have caused Sherlock to call him stupid and be a perfect lead-in to a fight. Then John's temper had gone out of hand and Sherlock left the flat. It wasn't like him to give ground for any reason, so John's words must have hurt him badly. And to be able to hide in London to the point that Mycroft hadn't been able to find him, that was just impressive. He wasn't sure how Mycroft had managed to find his brother, but was glad that Sherlock finally slipped up if he'd been in need of medical attention.

John did wonder at that. Sherlock hadn't been showing any signs of illness, so what had caused the fever? Was it possible that he hadn't remembered to eat or sleep until his body finally rebelled and fell ill? John groaned and rolled over, trying for a slightly more comfortable position. If Sherlock had been thinking about the words John had shouted at him, focused on trying to work out why John was suddenly agreeing with the idiots down at the Yard, then it was very probable that Sherlock would have worked himself into a fever and collapsed. 

There was nothing for it. He had to find Sherlock and talk to him. John had to let him know that, no matter what had been said, he didn't want to leave Baker Street. He didn't know if Mycroft had been speaking seriously when he mentioned John joining the consulting business, but he wanted to ask Sherlock about that too. He wanted to find out where Sherlock got enough money from that he didn't worry about rent and things when he seemed never to work. Maybe he did work on the computer or out and about while John was away at the surgery, so it just seemed like he never did anything but sit about the flat and ruin their kitchen things. John realized, with a shock, how little he actually knew about his flat-mate, and that was hardly fair. He probably should have asked before, but he could ask now and deal with the fallout.   
He just had a sinking feeling in his heart that the mysterious Jeff was around to stay. John wasn't sure how he felt about someone else having Sherlock's attention. He'd just have to see what happened.


End file.
